


Threaded Art

by maychorian



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maychorian/pseuds/maychorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ennoshita collects movie posters. He has a particular fondness for posters made to promote small independent films that no one has ever heard of. It's partly because such posters are obscure and rare, making them more valuable to a completionist of the type Ennoshita is. It's also partly because he strongly suspects that any movies he manages to make in his life (and oh, wow, he wants to make movies really bad), will be in the same genre. So whenever he finds a cool-looking poster for a terrible movie only ever watched by a dozen people who were not directly involved in the making of it (or related to said people), he feels a pang in his chest, a thread of connection tying whatever clumsy artwork he's looking at to the throbbing, tender muscle in his chest called a heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threaded Art

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted some Ennoshita, so I wrote some Ennoshita. Partly inspired by crollalanzaa's recent interest in Ennoshita's artiness. Maybe also a Split Second missing scene, sort of (post main story).

Ennoshita collects movie posters. He has a particular fondness for posters made to promote small independent films that no one has ever heard of. It's partly because such posters are obscure and rare, making them more valuable to a completionist of the type Ennoshita is. It's also partly because he strongly suspects that any movies he manages to make in his life (and oh, wow, he wants to make movies really bad), will be in the same genre. So whenever he finds a cool-looking poster for a terrible movie only ever watched by a dozen people who were not directly involved in the making of it (or related to said people), he feels a pang in his chest, a thread of connection tying whatever clumsy artwork he's looking at to the throbbing, tender muscle in his chest called a heart.

In most aspects of his life, Ennoshita tends to be quite well organized. His shirts in his closet are arranged by heaviness (winter weight on the right, summer lightness on the left) and by color. His desk is meticulously kept, with a column of pencils and pens marching down the right side, his desk lamp precisely in the middle for optimum lighting. (Ennoshita really likes lighting.) His textbooks are stacked in the center by order of difficulty. Subjects he needs the most study in are on top of the stack, decreasing in difficulty to the bottom, where he has hidden a couple of magazines as a reward to himself for finishing his studying for the day.

His movie posters, however, are a mess. Only a few are framed and hanging neatly on the walls as such glorious works of art deserve to be treated. And those were all gifts from his parents and his one like-minded uncle, who keeps an eye out for posters that Chikara-chan will like on his travels around Japan and Europe. Most of the posters are piled in boxes by the foot of his bed. They have no organizational system worth the name.

Yet Ennoshita knows exactly where they all are. If he gets a sudden hankering to look at the promotional art for  _Bloodthirsty Lolitas III: Attack of the Silken Dress_ , he knows which box to open and approximately how far down to dig before finding the poster he's looking for. Afterward, he might put the poster on top of the pile in that box, or in a different box, or on the floor. But the next time he wants it, he'll be able to find it again.

Kinoshita and Narita find this quirk both hilarious and impressive. Whenever the three of them hang out at Ennoshita's house (which isn't as often as any of them would like), they both enjoy stopping at random times in the middle of whatever they're doing, looking at Ennoshita, and asking, "Which poster do you own that has the most gore?" or "Which poster has the most interesting use of negative space?" or just "Hottest actress?" And Ennoshita will roll his eyes, but he'll lean over and snag the appropriate box, drag it over, and pull out the poster that fits the question most closely.

Ennoshita's mother finds his collection worrisome. She complains often about the weird, bloody "picture-stories" that her son gathers and treasures in his own little corner of the house. She doesn't understand why her sweet little Chikorin has become so obsessed with death and gore and supernatural beasties. Ennoshita has tried to explain, over and over, that it's not really the genre that attracts him, but the obscurity, the ingenuity, the  _smallness_  of indy projects. It just happens that a lot of independent movies are horror, because it's a cheap genre that can get a lot of mileage out of a few half-decent effects and a lot of suggestion. If independent movie-makers created more dramas, he'd have more drama posters. It's just that horror is common, that's all. His mom doesn't get it.

When his Karasuno teammates (and sensei!) agree to help him out with one of his dumb film projects, Ennoshita brings a few of his favorite posters to practice. After cool down, when everyone is sweaty and winded and the too-energetic among them (Tanaka, Nishinoya, Hinata) are worn out enough to settle down, Ennoshita kneels on the boards and spreads out some of the posters for them to look at.

"I like this one because the angles draw attention to the main character's face," he says, pointing. "This one is good because the framing is unusual." He tilts his head, looking at one of his favorites upside-down. It's an angle he never considered before, and it makes him appreciate the art in a whole new way. "And this one is just cool," he says finally, lamely, unable to come up with a more artsy-sounding reason for why he likes it as much as he does.

Hinata is sparkly-eyed and appreciative. Ennoshita is suddenly vaulted into the "cool senpai" echelon, though he will never be as cool as Noya-san in Hinata's eyes. He's okay with that. "You have to show Aone when you get together to talk about art direction!"

Ennoshita nods. He doesn't tell them that he's already texted quite a few photos of posters to his new partner-in-artistic-crime. Akaashi, too, has received quite a number of ridiculous camera-phone snapshots from him.

His gambit works—those few on the team who had been reluctant to join the project are won over by Ennoshita's art collection. Suddenly everyone is chattering about what the poster for "their movie" is going to look like. Kinoshita and Narita help him gather up the mess he made. Coach Ukai ruffles his hair and congratulates him for his taste—apparently coach has always been a fan of the Bloodthirsty Lolitas.

It's a good day. If Ennoshita has only been collecting posters his entire life for this one moment, it was worth it. He gathers the stack of posters against his body and stands there for a moment, feeling all the threads that bind them, each and every one, to the tender muscle in his chest. It's a sweet throb, this feeling, pounding and insistent and just a touch painful. But he doesn't mind.

He's gonna make a movie, and all his friends will be in it. This is why they do it, all those independent filmmakers he identifies with so intensely. This is why.


End file.
